…Merry Christmas! It’s finally upon us, and if your packages haven’t arrived yet it’s too late, and if you haven’t received a card from your Great Aunt Bertha whom you never see but who always stuffs the fifty quid in the envelope which you have come to rely upon, then tough, you’re not going to get it in time to hit the shops now. It’s all too late – too late I tells ya! You can panic if you like. Go on, why should you be any different?
Honestly, I went shopping at five o’ clock last night after visiting relatives and dropping pressies off. My sister had been to a “green-coloured supermarket” and had experienced trolley rage on a scale never known to mankind before. The place was heaving and she couldn’t even get parked in the overflow car park, so we decided to avoid the place and try the “orange-coloured supermarket” because we used to live right opposite it and it still gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling when I go in there (yes, really!) and even though it’s now way across town from where we live, I considered it a Christmas treat to go there after months away. (Yes, I am serious! This isn’t a wind-up!)
Anyway, we managed to get parked very easily and I sauntered in feeling very happy and a little bit smug. Except, well, there was a slight problem. As in, half of the shelves were empty. Honestly, I couldn’t even get a bag of potatoes! It looked like a thousand people had won a trolley dash competition and had shot through the place sweeping armfuls of stuff into their trolleys without even noticing what it was they’d grabbed. Funnily enough, there were plenty of turkeys left, although when I looked at the prices of some of them I wasn’t surprised. Seventy quid for a turkey? I don’t care if it’s been reared from an egg by the queen herself, slept on a velvet cushion and eaten nothing but organic corn all its life, I’m not paying seventy quid for a turkey. It didn’t look like anyone else was either.
Still, I managed to get most of what I wanted and a few things which I hadn’t realised I wanted but had added to the haul anyway because, after all, it is Christmas, and even though the shops are only shut for ONE day we wouldn’t want to run out of bread/milk/toilet roll/foil/pickled onions/pork pies/Quality Street now, would we? Horrific events like that could quite ruin the holiday feeling. I got home from shopping to hear a confession from my son that he had snaffled the tin of Celebrations I’d bought and “hidden” in the cupboard, wrapped them up and given them to a friend as a Christmas present. I nearly went into meltdown. Christmas was almost cancelled. It took a signed oath that he would head out to the shops this morning and hunt down another tin before I could contemplate resuming the festivities. Phew, it was a close-run thing!
So yes, I’m all set. Even though I have a whole pile of Christmas cards sitting on the chest of drawers in my bedroom, neatly written out but never delivered because I never got round to buying stamps or handing them to people to pass on or asking DH to pop in the car and drop them off. I might save them for next year.
Thanks to a Grinch-like boss, DH has been called upon to work Christmas Day and Boxing Day nights, which means that today, Christmas Eve, is going to be our special day. We are going to lock the doors, pour ourselves a drink, open the After Eights and watch It’s A Wonderful Life. Has there ever been a better film made? I don’t think so.
Tomorrow, the children and grandchildren are descending and chaos will reign, but for today, hopefully, all will be calm and peaceful. Unless Darling Son Number 3 fails to keep his promise to seek out those Celebrations, of course.
Have a wonderful Christmas. xx